


Love never wanted me, but I took it anyway

by AgostoAout, KoitoConRabia



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgostoAout/pseuds/AgostoAout, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoitoConRabia/pseuds/KoitoConRabia
Summary: Primrose is a killer, a killer of a very bad person, but a killer nonethenless. And she plans to end the life of three more people, of horrible people, but still people. Her mission has started and she's ready for it. But we don't always know how life is going to work out, and sometimes you end up in a band with seven more idiots, living with a certain blonde girl in wich you have an special interest you try to deny and a tour around the corner. Who knows, maybe facing your past will be easier this way.





	Love never wanted me, but I took it anyway

The noise of her shoes hitting the asphalt floor and the clink of the bracelets, adorned with beautiful green gems that reflected the moonlight, echoed in the narrow alley where she was. Even so, the rumble in her chest and the sound of her breathing covered everything else, or so it seemed to her.

Without knowing exactly where she was going, she sailed the streets of the city, fleeing from the eyes of the pedestrians; as well as the main streets, from which she heard the revelry and traffic as a backdrop.

The smell of blood mixed with the lack of air prevented her from running. A feeling of anguish oppressed her lungs and stomach, and for a moment she thought she would vomit. She watched the blood, garnet in the darkness, which covered her arms and probably also part of her face. She didn't know if it was horrible or satisfying, however morbid the situation was.

After all, her moral code had been deteriorated for many years.

She took a breath, but the footsteps and sirens of the police reminded her that her time was limited. She gathered strength to keep running despite her distress and again traveled the streets aimlessly, without destiny. She didn't want to get to any place in particular, just to scape from one. The voices of the officers sounded closer and closer, hunting her, catching her, and she no longer knew what part of that was real and what paranoia.

When she felt that she could no longer sprint and her body reached its limit, she saw a white light escaping from an open door at the end of the street. Without thinking twice, or having the privilege of questioning her options, she sneaked in and slammed the door.

She rested her head against the door, finally taking a few seconds to relax her body. When she opened her eyes, five people looked at her confused with half-eaten dinner in their hands.

They looked at each other intensely for a few long seconds, which were only filled with the sound of sirens and shouts of the policemen outside, until a blond scruffy kid who sat in his chair with his legs crossed opened his mouth:

“Need help?”

Primrose stared at him. The rest of the people in the room exchanged looks between her and the kid with some discomfort. An albino guy sitting on a sofa in the background snorted.

“No, I don't need it. Is there another way out?”

Her breathing was still ragged and she felt her limbs tremble. She could not bear the looks of sorrow and concern that these people gave her.

A dark-haired man, in his thirties, rose from his chair and tried to approach her. She backed away, now exposing the door she had stained.

“Those sirens... are they for you?”

”It's none of your business. how do I get out of here?”

At that moment a big, muscular men rose from his seat and moved toward Primrose. He looked her up and down and she looked at him suspiciously, and spoke in a low voice.

“Miss, it seems that we are the only thing that stands between you and those men out there, If I were you, I would treat us with a little more respect.”

“God. Ok, what do you want.”

The man frowned. He seemed confused, thought Primrose, and that made her angry. Why did he act confused when he was the one who had demanded something first?

“We don't want anything from you beyond an explanation.”

“I'm covered in blood. The cops are chasing me. Add two plus two.”

The blond boy from before rose like his companions.

“You're full of cuts. Girl, as much as you want to leave, I can't let you go like this, I'm a nurse.”

The albino kid, who had been watching her with suspicion since she entered the room, raised his voice.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you all stupid? The only thing that you are going to get by helping her is a free ticket to jail.”

“Therion, it's my moral duty.” The blond reproached him annoyed. "I can't let her get an infection and die."

“I won’t die.” She interrupted. “ I can manage alone. And if nobody wants to show me the way out, I'll find it myself. ”

Despite what she said, the adrenaline had begun to exit her body, and she had barely taken a few steps when she felt the stabbing pain of the cuts in her legs. Her limbs failed her and she thought she would fall to the ground, but something stopped her before she hit the ground.

When she raised her eyes, she found the blue eyes and pale blond hair of the only one in the room who had not yet spoken.

She helped her to her feet and stepped back. The girl seemed nervous, as if she was not used to dealing with people in such situations. She tried to smile, although it was a little forced.

She seemed to realize then that, by touching her, she had stained her shirt with blood.

“With thy p'rmission, i proce'd to clean myself.“ said then, and disappeared from the room quickly.

Primrose was almost saddened. She really had beautiful eyes.

”Young woman, you need help.” The dark-haired man spoke again.

At the same time, the blond offered to support her wherever they wanted to take her.

Primrose considered her options, and, much to her dismay, she knew she had no choice but to try to trust these strange people.

They sat her in one of the chairs and the supposed nurse bent down to examine her knees. After asking the twink-dandi to bring him a first aid kit, he took a cotton ball soaked with alcohol and proceeded to apply pressure on her cuts, but not before warning her (in a soothing voice) that it was going to to hurt.

“Considering my situation, that is the least of my problems.”

“I don't care about that. For me the most important thing is that you are well.”

Primrose supposed that it was best to let him take care of the injuries, so she said nothing. In the background, the big man and the dark-haired one spoke between whispers. The albino kid was still watching her warily from the couch.

When he finished with the cuts of her legs he continued with those on her arms. While her wounds were being treated, Primrose listened carefully to the voices and sirens outside, which seemed to be decreasing in volume, as if (perhaps) they were moving away. She didn't want to let her guard down (let alone around a bunch of strangers), but she couldn’t help the frenzy and terror of the chase from before lightening in her chest.

After treating all the bruises, he asked her if something hurt inside her, if she had something stuck in her, if she felt nauseous or had a headache. Luckily, she had left practically unharmed the contest, the most serious being an odd deep gash; and her nausea was not due to any wound other than the anxiety she was experiencing. Even so, she couldn't feel regretful or disgusted by what she had just done, not even a little.

Immersed in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that the pretty-eyed girl had returned. She had changed her clothes, having changed her short-sleeved shirt from a band Primrose didn't know, for a comfortable hoodie. Now she spoke, among whispers, with the other two men. As if I thought Primrose couldn't hear them.

The blond boy, having finished his work, shook his hands and stood up with a smile.

“ Well, it seems you weren’t seriously hurt. That's good.” He was still smiling reassuringly, which pissed Primrose off.

He sat on the couch with the other boy (who seemed to be the only one having a normal reaction and, consequently, angry) and said something that Primrose did not hear (also with that stupid smile) that only made the other turn his head and it sank deeper into the couch.

When she finally thought they would let her go in peace, the platinum blonde girl walked away from the men and headed for the couch. The men in question approached her and accommodated the plastic chairs where they had been dining to sit in front of her.

She noticed a bit of doubt on their faces: they had something to say, or ask, but they didn't know how. In those seconds of silence, Primrose looked them up and down and noticed the matching engagement rings in their hands.

The man who had sat to the right, the one with dark hair, spoke first.

-”Since you have calmed down now, do you want to eat? “ He said while offering some of the instant ramen. “ And then you can tell us what happened, in more detail, if you want.”

“You don't need to feed me. I am not a dog. “

“_No, pero sí una perra._” The albino boy said from the sofa.

“Therion! _No digas eso!_”

“_Calla maricón de mierda._”

The blonde girl told them to shut up.

“I bethink the appropriate thing in this situation is to introduceth ourselves. I am h'aanit, with two a’s.”

“I’m Alfyn." The blond boy continued, and pointed to his partner. "And this is Therion.”

The dark-haired man was the next to introduce himself. “My name is Cyrus, nice to meet you.”

"I'm Olberic." The big man finally spoke. "You could start telling us how you got here, and what is your name."

She calculated the risks to tell these strange her name, but assumed that if they hadn’t called the police by now, they wouldn’t turn her in, at least for now (and when their opinion changed, she would be very, very far away)

“I’m Primrose, a dancer.”

She noticed how the albino raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

The man (Cyrus, she thought was his name) leaned back in his seat and addressed her with a certain tone of curiosity that he couldn't hide:

“Well Primrose, how did you end up like this? where you come from? Why are they after you?”

"Cyrus, doth not overwhelm her," the girl said, H'aanit.

“I think it is perfectly normal to have so many questions in this situation. But hey,” he sighed, “ I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you. Let's start with the reason they’re after you.”

“I killed my master.”

The room was filled with silent.

“That ... explains things.“ Olberic commented.

"But ..." H'aanit began to say "Wherefore now? Hast he done something to thee, or hast something happened? what hast been the trigger?”

“He had done ... many things, but it is not the reason. I have, to call it that, a task, a mission to accomplish, which has started today, and he was in the middle.”

“And what is that mission, if we can know?” Therion asked.

“Family matters”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“How is it? Don't you think you should tell us anything else?”

“It is not your business.”

“Oh, I think it is, considering your situation right now.”

“As you will understand, I cannot trust a group of strangers that I have just met. The issue that I have in my hands is quite important.”

“We are a band.“ Alfyn spoke. -”As you can see, the instruments are there, in the background. Some members are missing, but we have been together for a couple of years. Soon we will start our first tour. “

“And what is your band name, supposedly?” She said, thinking internally how to escape from this group of crazy people.

“Travelers!” He replied enthusiastically. “Do you want to listen to our album?”

“I don't think it's the best moment.” Olberic answered for her.

“Oh! Yes, well, it's true. Sorry.”

Cyrus, after sighing, looked back at her with curiosity and continued to question her:

"Well, if you're not going to reveal your motives... you can tell us at least if someone can come to pick you up."

“No, I've been... alone for a long time.”

She thought that, perhaps, if Yusufa were still alive, she could help. However, the only person she had been able to call friend, no matter how late she had realized this, was dead. A feeling of guilt ran through her body and she remembered the handkerchief in her pocket. If only she had been more careful, she would still be alive.

Hearing that, Cyrus looked at Olberic and the rest of the people in the room.

-”Do you have somewhere to sleep?”

Primrose shook her head.

“If thee wish, thee can stayeth at mine own house tonight” H'aanit spoke.

“No, thanks.” It was kind of hard to understand the woman, and the weird way of speaking made her worry she had taken a hit to the head.

“Please, it is the minimum that we can do.” said Olberic. “We don't want anything from you, we just want to help.”

“And why would you want to help me? I'm a killer. You have done enough.”

It was true that she needed where to sleep, and she needed to accept the offer if she did not want to sleep on the street. However, a mixture of her pride and distrust prevented her

“Please, I insist. I knoweth thee doest not trust me, but we can't leaveth thee liketh this. Although mine own word doest not help much, i promiseth not to harmeth thee and alloweth thee to leaveth as soon as it’s morning.”

Primrose thought carefully. It was risky, but she didn't have many more options either. It was that or sleeping on the street, which was even more dangerous, both because of night hazards and because it would be much easier for the police to find her. These people, even they were foolish enough, did not seem to want to turn her in, nor did they seem extremely dangerous. Possibly she could win everyone in a fight (not counting, perhaps, Olberic or H'aanit, and still seemed faster and lighter than they, in case she needed to escape) if necessary.

“H'aanit, you took the bus, right?” Cyrus asked, to which H'aanit nodded. “Let me get you a ride.”

“Then we're done for today, right?” Therion asked from the sofa.

“It seems so.”

He and Alfyn got up from the couch and took a pair of backpacks that had been previously thrown in the corner. They approached, first, a guitar resting on the wall that he kept in his case and lay on his back; and the second to a saxophone lying on a table across the room, which he began to disassemble and clean carefully.

Olberic also kept a guitar.

After saying goodbye to the group, Cyrus asked them to wait at the door. Facing the cold of the night, H'aanit took off her hoodie and offered it to Primrose. Underneath she wore a short-sleeved shirt, but different from the one she was wearing before.

“Putteth this on. It’s bitter cold, and at which hour we receiveth to mine own apartment thee shall has't to putteth on the hood. We doth not wanteth any neighbor who cometh out by chance to recognizeth thee on the news tomorrow.”

Primrose would protest on any other occasion, but she had no argument and H'aanit was right.

When Cyrus arrived H'aanit opened the door to the rear, where the man had placed a towel. H'aanit sat in the passenger seat.

During the trip Cyrus put classical music on the radio and proceeded to speak.

"I suppose it can be a little awkward not knowing anything about us, right, Primrose?"

She did not answer verbally but nodded.

“I used to be a professor at a music conservatory. I'm still part-time, but most of my time goes to the band.” Occasionally, when they stopped at a red light, Cyrus looked back to speak directly to her. “I'll take a break with the tour, but that's basically my life. I met Olberic in the conservatory, my husband, the tall and burly man, and H'aanit.”

Upon hearing her name, the woman raised her head from her phone and smiled at her. For the first time she participated in the conversation.

“Alfyn rented them a room, and over timeth Therion beganeth to liveth with them, too.”

“There are more members in the band, but they were not in practice today.” He kept talking while he parked. “But you'll meet them next time.”

Cyrus gave him a smile as H'aanit got out of the car, but Primrose kept her expression serious.

“I doubt it.” She answered and got out of the car.

When they entered the portal, Primrose remembered H'aanit's advice and put on her hood. She followed H'aanit, none of them spoke for being careful to possible neighbors. When they stood in front of the door, Primrose observed the place. It was a fairly normal block of flats, some plants adorned it. She was a little curious about the patio, but soon H'aanit reminded her that the door was already open.

“Art thee allergic to dogs or cats?”

“No. Why?”

But the reasons for the question soon appeared. A dark-haired wolf-dog appeared at the entrance, ready to be petted by H'aanit and, looking from the corner, was a large gray cat.

"These art Linde," she said, pointing to the gray cat, "and Hägen, mine own master's dog. He is traveling now, and hast been out for several months.”

“Your master? And he has been out for several months?”

Who even calls another person 'master' in the 21st century?

“Aye, well... he's very much mine own legal guardian, he's been taking careth of me since i wast about nine or ten years old ... but at first he wast just my archery master. I never lost the habit of calling him that.” H'aanit took off her shoes and placed them in a corner. She put his foot in slippers that had been thrown on the floor and went inside the house, indicating to Primrose with a gesture to follow her “And the trippeth ... it turns out that he is a person quite, sayet, irresponsible. He wouldst has't to beest backeth by now, but he hast hadst money problems and cannot beest here until he gets enough to returneth.”

Primrose did not think of very reliable a guy who is lying in a city that is not his because he has not manage his money; but on the other hand, who was she to judge.

While H'aanit spoke, she observed the different rooms of the house as they passed through its doors. It was not a very glamorous apartment, but she admitted that it seemed cozy. It had a bathroom, a small kitchen and a living room, apart from two closed doors that would very possibly be rooms.

H'aanit stopped and opened one of the doors. Primrose took a look and, confirming her suspicions, was a room. Several archery trophies were visible on a shelf, and on the left a bow hung on the wall. The rest of the room was messy, clothes visibly dirty on the floor, or in the chair.

Then H'aanit opened the next door, showing an organized, clean, and obviously, her room.

“I bethought that thee couldst stayeth in my room.” she said. “I shall sleep in mine own master's room.”

Primrose nodded. “I'd be lying if I said I'm not happy, but I don't need you to give me a bed. The sofa is fine.”

She was already bringing too many problems to throw her out of her room, even if it was only one night. She felt too guilty holding her hand, she didn't want to take her whole arm.

“Please, I insist.Thee might not but beest not restful, and the sofa shall only maketh thee wake up with a sore backeth.”

She was tired, that was true, and that's why she didn't argue anymore. Later, she would try to change her mind again.

Before Primrose's yes, H'aanit entered his room, searched in her dresser a little, and returned with clean clothes.

“Thee shouldst changeth.” She said, offering her clothes. “The bathroom is at the endeth of the hall and i shall prepareth something for dinner. If thee needeth anything, alloweth me know.”

Primrose nodded and headed for the shower. In any other situation she would have continued to deny the help but she just wanted the day to end.

While she was undressing, she watched the blood stains that covered her entire body and clothes. She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction fill her, feeling the adrenaline she had felt when she had just killed that bastard.

Anyone who tried to convince her of the evil of her actions would only take a cold look and no response back. Only she knew well how much her master deserved death, and the men she tried to kill.

Yusufa would know too, if she hadn't been killed. She thought about them, maybe the millions of possibilities where she could still be alive.

The last thing she took off was the blood-flooded handkerchief, gnawed by time, but still soft that her friend had left her just that afternoon.

Her ankle still hurt, and it was hard to walk and even more run. Primrose knew that the handkerchief was one of the few valuable possessions Yusufa retained, a constant reminder of how much her friend had given for her.

Primrose wanted more time, not from her life as a dancer but from her life with Yusufa. She had been so focused on her revenge and loneliness that the moment had to come where she saw his most precious die in her arms to realize how much she cared.

Yusufa was happy to be her friend, but Primrose knew they could have been much more. Such a kind soul did not deserve to be under their employer's domain, and Primrose repeated in her head again and again everything she could have done to get her out of there.

With trembling feet, she entered the shower and let the hot water wash both her mind and her body.

She couldn’t help but think the fact that she was going to spend the night at a stranger's house. A part of her told her that H'aanit did not seem, much less,like a bad person, having accepted her into her house even after hearing (part) of the truth. But the other part of herself, which eclipsed the first, forced her to be always alert, always suspicious. In recent years it was the only way she had survived.

She also thought about her mission. Finally, after all this time, it had begun. There was no turning back, and even if there were, Primrose wouldn’t go back. This was her only chance for revenge, to feel that her father's memory and herself could finally rest, to make sense of all the sacrifices she had made. And she wasn't going to waste it.

She was going to find the other men at any cost.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is bassed on that one official art where everyone is in a band (althought we're probably changing the instruments because, seriously, why they have two pianos and a cello but not a singer???). And yes, the tittle is an emo lyric from the song XO by Fall Out Boy (sorry, we're couldn't think of anything better). This story was originally written in spanish so we apologize for any mistakes made in the translation (and we would apreciate a lot if you could point them out, in casse there are any!). We hope you enjoy it!


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